Stolen Moments
by Aurumite
Summary: Five kisses. [Frederick/Emmeryn]


_Notes: For a tumblr prompter, asking for desperate Fremmeryn kisses. Literally how do I say no to that._

_(My personal headcanon for Emmeryn is that she's ace, but 1) this was for a request, and 2) while she could still be sex-positive asexual, I think the only plausible explanation for these two putting aside their EXTREMELY IMPORTANT duties to suck face is the more stereotypical uncontrollable hormones of youth, and on both sides, so that one isn't constantly reminding the other that it's not a good idea. So I'm exploring that dynamic this time.)_

* * *

**I. Garden**

Visits back to Ylisstol Castle were rare and very brief. Chrom couldn't ignore a cry for help on even his own sister's birthday, so they had to wait for times when bandits ceased their plundering, when fires had not destroyed neighbourhoods, when wolves weren't prowling. Whenever they could spare a moment, he ordered a march back to his home, and to the woman waiting there.

She told them not to worry so, in the Great Hall where she met them. Her smile reminded Frederick of the last time he'd seen her, of the words he'd blurted, the way it touched her lips before he rose and hurried for his horse. The light against her crown cast another shining ring on her golden hair, two honours, two halos. It strengthened Frederick's resolution to keep his distance.

Emmeryn radiated calm. Her hands were steady and her voice sure. It made Chrom return her smile, and sheepishly.

But Frederick's worries were not assuaged so easily. That night, long after Chrom and Lissa had closed their bedroom doors, he found himself pacing the gardens. It was a spring night, sharply and deceptively cool compared to the gentle warmth of the day.

"Frederick," a voice said softly.

It seemed Emmeryn's thoughts matched his, yet again. Another night she intended to spend sleepless. He paused in his tracks but didn't turn around.

"The night is cold, milady. You should be inside."

"Will you not take your own advice?"

"In due time."

She did not reply, but he did not hear her footfalls fade away, either. For a long moment there was only the burbling of the garden fountain and the occasional frog peeping.

"Do you require something of me, Your Grace?" he asked.

"No. You've just...been gone a long time."

He took a deep breath and turned to face her. The moon was almost full and washed her in silver, bleaching her already-pale hair and skin until she seemed etherial. He was sure he didn't gleam nearly as much. His hair was dark and he'd removed his armour.

"I apologize that we could not be here for your birthday," he said.

"It's simply a day." Her voice was even, but with the evenness of someone who had told themselves those words a hundred times. Frederick banished the thought of reaching for her hand.

"It's cold," he said again.

"Yes," she whispered. The pause between them was suffocating and made him want to swallow. "Should I, perhaps, not speak to you like this any longer?"

"Like what, milady?"

"Alone. I have kept what you said very close to me, but those things can change. I hope you would just let me know."

He looked down. This was what he got for loving her so fully, so hard. He barely remembered the words he'd given her before he left with Chrom, unsure when he would see her again, barely remembered the floor pressing against his knees as he hurriedly swore things that walked a very dangerous line between loyal vassalage and passionate manhood. All he knew was that whatever he'd said, he still meant. And she'd understood, from her smile, from the way she'd touched his cheek, but she had no time to respond. There was nothing to say even if she did have a moment for it. They'd both had other duties to attend to.

It would always be that way. That was why he should keep away, no matter how lonely she was.

"It would be best," he said finally, "if you forget everything. I am milady's retainer and your lord brother's lieutenant. That is all."

"I understand."

Again, her voice was too calm. It stung like a knife wound, and he knew it was how she cut down all her enemies non-violently. To hear her resignation, her inner peace, reminded one of their own flaws, destroyed them with self-loathing, with the burning need to be just a little bit more like Emmeryn, until they could not bring themselves to face her any longer.

Long ago they would have parted with a lingering look, perhaps even an embrace. Now she just extended her hand, fingers limp and eyes detached, and Frederick bowed over it to place an impartial kiss upon its back.

But her palm, balanced gingerly atop his fingertips, felt too cold. One brush of his lips across her smooth skin was not enough of a goodbye to her, the person he treasured most in the world. He kissed her hand a second time, a third, pressing his lips harder. It still wasn't enough. They slipped to her knuckles, kissing each, and then each finger, and then their tips. She gasped but her hand turned easily in his grasp until he could kiss her palm too, the heel of her hand, her silky wrist.

She gasped again—"Frederick"—but he was halfway to her elbow by that point, pushing up her sleeve and trying to imprint his regard and regret upon her skin. He could feel her shivering. Her free hand ran back through his hair, making him lift his head, and then her mouth crashed against his. The kiss was clumsy but warm, fervent, and he was dizzy by the time she pulled away.

"Goodbye?" she said.

"Goodbye." He kissed her again.

They remained there for an hour, desperately trying to break away, just as desperately reeling each other back in, until it became more than clear that there could be no real goodbyes until fate slammed the door in their faces. One day the hammer would fall. One day they would be fully forbidden. But for now their lips kept moving, seeking, hungry for just another moment of comfort.

* * *

**II. Corridor**

The corridor wall was hard against Emmeryn's back, but she made no move to get more comfortable. It was impossible to think of anything else except Frederick's body firm against hers, pinning her steadily in place through their frantic kiss. Each time, she felt, he came back with a little more height, more breadth to his shoulders, more muscle. Both their roads were difficult. Was she growing just as much to survive hers?

He broke her thoughts with his tongue, sliding it along hers. Her hands were caught between them, clinging to his shirt, while his clutched her hips. She thought of ways to get them up higher but was distracted when his warm mouth wandered down her neck.

"Leave a mark," she ordered breathlessly. "Please."

When Frederick shook his head his thick hair tickled her jaw. She clutched his shirt tighter.

"Please. I can remember you with it when you leave."

It had been almost six months since the last time she'd seen him. Six months of countless nights lying in her bed, reliving the night in the garden, wondering if he was too. With a moan of surrender, Frederick sucked hard at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. The look in his eyes when they'd met in the great hall was both terrifying and exhilarating, and stole her breath. Her delight at seeing Chrom and Lissa pushed those thoughts away, but the moment her siblings retired, they'd returned. She and Frederick hadn't even been able to make it somewhere private before she gripped his arm and he pressed her back against the wall.

Her head lolled and her eyelids fluttered as she struggled not to moan back. It would be easy for him to mark her, as she bruised easily, but Frederick's nature was too thorough to settle. He suckled, he licked, he blew cold air across her skin. His teeth were next, scraping gently and then sinking down. Emmeryn winced but the pleasure that flared was much stronger than the pain. Whatever he intended to leave for her would be midnight purple, deep and sprawling, something that would take a week to fade. Something that would alarm her each time she saw it in her looking glass.

There was something very dangerous about this, and she tried to gather the threads of it through her delirium.

"This isn't...this isn't wise...not here..."

Frederick's grip on her tightened as he pried himself away. His breath trembled when he sucked it in. He finally shook his head in agreement.

"Please forgive me," he whispered. She knew he meant everything: the kiss now, the kisses then, the fact that he'd broken, hadn't stayed away. Only pain was coming for them and each brush of their lips made it worse.

But Emmeryn believed in love, believed that even things with painful endings had their place and their worth and their right to live. So she touched Frederick's face and told him goodnight, and she returned to her room alone.

* * *

**III. Bedroom**

Emmeryn looked serene and unshaken, even after all that had happened. Frederick, Phila, Chrom, and Lissa all gathered in her parlour, together with the strangest collection of people: Panne, last of the taguel race; Gaius, a thief who hadn't been able to bring himself to take part in the assassination; a great number of the Shepherds. They lit many candles to keep the darkness at bay, despite the hour, and tried hard to make sense of what had happened. Validar slain in the garden. Marth melted into the night.

It took a long time, but Chrom finally convinced Emmeryn to flee to the eastern palace in secret. When she agreed, Frederick let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

One by one, the others left to claim what sleep they could. It was past four in the morning when Chrom, the last, quit talk of planning the march and wearily kissed his sister's cheek.

"I shan't pity you in the morning, friend," he said to Frederick as he stood. Emmeryn smiled slightly at his understanding: that if there was ever a night to not chide Frederick for paranoia, for wanting to stay up until the sun, it was this one. Chrom shut the door behind him.

For a long moment there was only silence between them. Then Frederick moved to sit beside Emmeryn on her couch, the rustle of movement soft and gentle, just so he could cup her face and feel how alive she was.

"It's all right," she murmured. "It's over now. You should sleep."

"I should keep awake and watch every breath you take."

She kissed him. It was gentle, lingering, filled with gratitude, and she looked exhausted when she pulled away. He pressed his lips beneath her ear and kept them there, feeling her pulse under his mouth. He did the same at the hollow of her throat before he flecked kisses lower, seeking permission.

What she granted was total. She removed her mantle and then her shift so that she was almost entirely bare before him. He kissed between her breasts, next, reveling in her heartbeat. Emmeryn touched his hair. When he was satisfied that the beating against his lips would continue, he pulled the blanket from the back of her couch, wrapped her in it, and carried her to bed.

"You fret too much," she said when she was firmly tucked in.

"So milady will take issue with me pacing the room and keeping watch?"

"Very much. Please try to relax."

Frederick tried. It only left him on his knees at her bedside, giving her a goodnight kiss that was desperate for such vastly different reasons than the last time.

* * *

**IV. Road**

A quick walk into the woods to gather firewood. That's all it had been. Emmeryn wanted to be helpful during the march to the eastern palace but had limited skills. Frederick was in charge of the fire. It only made sense for them to go together. They would be quick and efficient and return immediately.

It wasn't what really happened.

Emmeryn knew there was no excuse for it. Yes, they were young, and yes, they were lonely, and yes, the stress was too great to bear alone sometimes. It was so tempting to break beneath the weight of it, knowing his arms would be there to catch her. It was so tempting to pause from the rest of her life, just for a moment, and pretend she was a low-born woman, with safe low-born siblings who knew no strife, and high hopes for an easy marriage with someone attainable. A life of peace, like she'd always wanted. Like she already knew none of them would ever have, if she failed them. If she paused to be selfish for just one moment.

But the sunlight limned his hair in bronze and he stopped to look at her and she couldn't manage any longer. Their lips met hard. Emmeryn anchored her hands in Frederick's hair while he wrapped his arms around her. There was no space between them; they wouldn't allow it.

"I'm so tired," she whispered.

"Let's rest for a moment."

"Just a short moment."

The forest floor smelled sweet as they sank to it. Emmeryn understood their time to explore would be short, safely tempered by how quickly they had to return. Their hands roamed everywhere, clutching, groping, untucking and unbuttoning and pushing up garments, feeling the slivers of warm, bare skin they uncovered, small tastes to tide them over for the next few months: the small of his back, her thigh, his ribs, her shoulder, all while unable to part their lips. When Frederick finally reached her breast Emmeryn arched in delight, moaning as he teased her through her shirt with his thumb.

How far could they go before they had to stop? How much could she press into her memory before Frederick had to leave her again, before everyone had to leave her again? She hooked her leg over his, pulled him tighter, kissed him harder. The quickness of her heartbeat and the fierce burning in her core were terrifying in their intensity, yet for exactly that reason she couldn't stop. That he felt the same way was just as frightening but also deeply relieving. His kisses turned sharp, breathless. His knee pushed up between her legs. Emmeryn was clutching his belt and trying to grasp the foolishness of the situation when he finally tore away.

"Firewood," he said raggedly.

"Firewood," she rasped back.

Slowly they untangled, rose, straightened their clothing in a daze. The burn inside of Emmeryn raged so brightly she thought she could cry over it. She pushed her tears back. It was hard enough like this; there was no need to make Frederick feel bad. They might get another chance later. They were still days from the palace. The army needed firewood. It was time to stop being so self-centered and—

"Your Grace!"

Phila came crashing through the woods, fleet and panicked as a deer, with her red-haired protégé on her heels. Emmeryn covered her mouth to see Cordelia. Hadn't she been left in Ylisstol? She had blood on her dress and tears on her dirty face.

"Your Grace," Phila said. "Ylisstol has been attacked. We've lost—we've lost—!"

"Let's go," said Emmeryn, and ran for camp. She didn't spare a look back for Frederick. Chrom needed the Fire Emblem and her people needed her to return.

* * *

**V. Desert**

Plegia was damnably hot. It was difficult for Frederick to fall asleep each night in the heat, thinking of Chrom tossing and turning in the tent over, of Emmeryn held captive. Robin promised them that the next day would be their final battle. Within twenty-four hours, he would see her face again.

That night he dreamt of her. The moment she was safe he would pull her into his arms. It wouldn't matter if Chrom or Lissa saw, or what anyone else might think. All that mattered would be her warmth, the beating of her heart, the rise and fall of her chest against his.

That night he would go to her tent, shut the flap behind him, fall to his knees and make another vow to protect her always, to never let her out of his sight, and if Gangrel had not injured her or put fear into her heart, he would kiss everything he could reach from his position, her stomach and waist and hips. She would smile down at him and stroke his hair in that gentle way of hers. He would touch her bare leg again, lay his lips upon it, follow it to her centre and pleasure her senseless from his knees, ease her mind away from her captivity and torment. He would spend hours worshipping her, discovering the colours her skin would flush, the different tambres of every moan. He'd do anything and everything she asked. And when she needed to sleep he would stay awake over her, watching her breathing, stroking her hair, refusing to sleep himself in case he missed a single second of having her alive and safe and with him. She was so warm in his arms. Her heart beat so smoothly.

It was a dream that gave Frederick conviction when he woke. Hope. Emmeryn would not be alone any longer. He would make it so.

* * *

**Desert II**

That night the rain soaked through his tent. Frederick didn't care. He remained on his back in his damp cot, staring at the dripping canvas ceiling, waiting for sleep that would not come.


End file.
